Devil in the Details
by Clare Mansfield
Summary: Felix Felicis. A tricky little potion to make: a difficult prize to win. That is, of course, unless you're the Half Blood Prince. But what will a sixteen-year old Severus Snape do with twelve hours of luck? Smatterings of SS/LE. MWPP thrown in for free
1. Chapter 1

_Summary: Felix Felicis. A tricky little potion: a difficult prize to win. That is, of course, unless you are the Half-Blood Prince. But what does a sixteen-year old Severus Snape do with twelve hours of luck?_

_A/N: It is been far too long since I took a foray into fanfiction. But once I'd got this idea I just had to write it. I hope my readers whill enjoy and review. Thank you to Megan who is always there to discuss plots and to disagree with me over Hagrid's passion for sun bathing hehe._

_Disclaimer: I've checked and I definately don't own Harry Potter. This is a work of my own creation, however._

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It had been a hot, muggy week and the castle had begun to stagnate. The Easter holidays were but a distant memory, and the summer was on the other side of exams. The lessons dragged endlessly - the teachers too hot to carry out many practical demonstrations, leaving their pupils to work from their books or to practice spells from weeks before. "Always good to brush up on the fundamentals" Flitwick had said before collapsing back into his chair, fanning himself rapidly with one hand. "There is no time to dawdle," McGonagall had stressed, pausing every now and again to take a sip of water. "You are all N.E.W.T. students now and with this comes added pressure. You should all be very thankful for this opportunity to revise." Hagrid could regularly be seen sunbathing from the History of Magic classroom window, smothering the great expanse of his white, hairy stomach with lotion before donning a pair of sunglasses with lenses as large as saucers. Quidditch practice had stalled and the Hospital Wing had been overrun with cases of sun-stroke. There seemed to be no release from the heat or the tedium.

Snape had never been one for the summer. As a child he could remember watching the children in his street chasing each other, kicking a ball or running after the ice cream van from his front room window. He had never asked to join in; he had never wanted to. When he ventured to the park he was inevitably teased for his odd, ill-fitting clothes, or for being different, not quite like the other children, difficult to understand. But despite this Snape continued to go, to remain out of sight and watch as a skinny girl with mousey brown hair would run towards the swings. Seeing her he'd wait, straining on tip-toes from his hidden spot behind the tree, his eyes always hungry to see her. His heart would leap into his throat when she came into sight -all flying red hair, and freckled-flushed cheeks and scraped knees - as she would shout after her sister, "Tuney! Wait for me!"

And there she was, suddenly appearing in the dungeon corridor in the habit she always had when he was thinking of her. Lily passed him by and stood with her friend Mary, a curly blonde-haired girl with judgemental blue eyes that Snape despised, pointedly ignoring him the way she had done ever since the previous year when he had called her something unforgivable.

"Put your tongue in, Snivellus..." a malicious drawl interrupted, preventing Snape from thinking back to that day, and causing him to turn. Just as he expected Sirius was standing there, flanked by James and Remus, with Peter cowering somewhere behind. Sirius leant back against the wall, his nonchalance infuriating, whilst James grew increasingly red in the face. "I'm sure even Evans..." Here, Sirius raised his voice in order to attract the attention of the girls at the classroom doorway. It did the trick and even though Snape didn't turn he felt the atmosphere shift and it pained him to think that Lily was now watching whatever humiliation would follow. His face refused to register these emotions, however, and Snape watched coolly as Sirius finished, "...wouldn't want a slimy sod like you eyeing her up."

After composing himself Snape took a deep breath before exhaling silkily, "As much as I appreciate your suggestion, forgive me if I don't accept advice from someone who is incapable of thinking with anything above the waistband of his trousers..."

"Why you slithery ba..." James spluttered furiously, reaching inside his robes to withdraw his wand. But Remus prevented him just in time for the altercation was interrupted by Professor Slughorn, who suddenly appeared at the end of corridor.

"What's all this?" Slughorn asked, his eyes moving suspiciously between the two boys.

James was inarticulate with anger and so it was left to Sirius to attempt to put an arm around Slughorn's shoulder and explain, "Oh it's nothing, Professor...just a friendly disagreement."

"Yes...well..." Slughorn began, manoeuvring past them to make his way to the classroom door. "You're rather too old to be squabbling in the corridors. I wouldn't make a habit of it."

"Of course not, Sir," Sirius smirked as he spoke, digging James sharply in the side with his elbow to prompt his agreement.

The damp dungeon was a welcome relief from the rest of the castle. There were no windows which meant the sun could not beat down angrily onto the faces of the students, who were forced to wince through the light to make out the directions on the board. Snape took his seat at the work bench, spreading his Potions Kit on the desk before him. A dumpy, round-faced girl sat beside him, her scratched cauldron and lop-sided scales making his lips twitch into a smile. Although the extent of his Kit was not entirely necessary for sixth-year Potions he was extremely proud of it – the perfectly balanced scales, the heavy pewter cauldron, the stirrers with their quicksilver tips. There were vials of every shape and every design – short, glass ones, tall, thin, crystal ones. There were vials that kept their potions heated for hours after they were made, vials which held more liquid than looked possible. Of course he carried the same fundamental ingredients that were recommended to all of the students – dragon scales, flobberworm mucus, hellebore roots – yet Snape also prided himself on the more rare and wonderful ingredients he spent hours collecting; the wings from the rare Mesopotamian Firefly; the petals from the Moonlight Orchid, the invaluable powdered Opal.

Potions, more than any of the other subjects offered at Hogwarts, offered Snape the opportunity to excel. Although he was more passionate about Defence Against the Dark Arts, it was Potions in which Snape displayed most natural talent. Whereas others would struggle to understand the nuances required to make a successful mixture, Snape possessed the qualities to make him a talented Potions-maker; he was patient, he had a steady hand, he was observant. The changes he would make to the elixirs he would concoct would come as second-nature. He had always been able to look at the text book instructions and know instinctively where the instructions were wrong and make his own corrections accordingly. Only once had Slughorn caught sight of his copy of _Advanced Potion-Making _and complained of the untidy scrawl that seemed to obscure the text. Subsequently Snape had been more careful to conceal his annotations from the prying eyes of his Professor and his classmates, and as he watched Slughorn take his position at the front of the class he opened his text book and readied his quill to make whatever alterations were necessary.

"Now then...it has come to my attention that your lessons in other subjects may have been _unimaginative _of late..." Slughorn stressed this word delicately before pressing on hastily, "Far be it from me to cast aspersions on the teaching practices of my colleagues, however, I hope that many of you may be far more stimulated by what I have planned for you today." At this point Slughorn moved aside to reveal a cauldron that was placed on the bench behind him. The more interested pupils craned their necks in order to see what was inside. A potion like molten gold sloshed happily within and Snape recognised it immediately.

"This is a tricky little concoction named Felix Felicis..." Slughorn paused, watching as many of his pupils were attempting to translate the Latin name. "Can anyone tell me what this potion does?"

Snape knew although he was never one to raise his hand in class. Instead, he allowed Lily to explain to the class, "It makes you lucky...incredibly lucky..."

"Right you are, Lily, ten points to Gryffindor!" Slughorn announced, causing Snape to inwardly curse himself that he hadn't answered. But Lily's smile was enough to disarm him and make him forget his Gryffindor rivalry, and he watched her closely as she continued, "It's incredibly difficult to make, isn't that right?"

"Terribly difficult; gave me a little trouble myself this morning. Liquid luck," Slughorn announced, pleased that he had gained the intense interest of almost all of his class. "If taken you tend to find that everything you put your mind to tends to work out. Of course, its use in sports and examinations is banned. However, its use to simply give oneself an extraordinary day is perfectly acceptable..."

"Is that what we're going to be making, Sir?" Remus asked.

"No...no...That would be far too difficult, even for the more talented amongst you." Snape could not help but feel slightly disappointed. "However," Slughorn continued, "It is what I shall be offering as a reward to the student who successfully completes today's task." The dungeon fell silent. Even the more unenthusiastic students had raised their heads from their desks. "Enough Felix Felicis for twelve hours worth of luck. But I must warn you, your task today shall not be easy. To brew the Draught of the Living Death, instructions for which can be found on page ten on your text books." Here, the entire class opened their text books as one. "I do not expect a perfect potion from anyone. However, the best effort wins the prize. You have one hour. Off you go!"

The class immediately fell to their work. There was a rush to the cupboard to find the best ingredients, squabbling amongst friends as to who had the best bet at winning the prize. Behind him Snape could hear Sirius saying, "You hear that, Prongs? Twelve hours of luck! Perhaps that would mean even you could finally score with Evans." The thought of this caused the tips of Snape's ears to turn pink and he allowed his eyes to roam over to Lily, who was methodically laying out the ingredients required on the desk before her. She looked up and caught Snape looking, turning immediately away to ask Mary if she could borrow her silver knife. As much as he attempted to prevent the thought that pervaded his mind he couldn't help but see the truth in what Sirius had said. With twelve hours of luck perhaps Potter would finally succeed with Lily, after all – as Slughorn had correctly pointed out – you could achieve anything you put your mind too with luck on your side. But Sirius' words had not only inspired anger in Snape but a desire to succeed, to win the Felix Felicis for himself. For if it would provide James with the luck he needed in finally winning Lily's affections than perhaps, just maybe, it could do the same for him.

Snape opened his text book and concentrated on the instructions hard, assessing which would have to be corrected in order to produce the best potion. He knew from his experience with the Sopophorous Bean that cutting it was often more trouble than it was worth – crushing it with the side of a knife always worked far better. After adding his own annotations beneath the text book instructions Snape finally collected the ingredients he needed from the store cupboard. Mixing them quickly to the cauldron, Snape flattened the Sopophorous Bean with his knife before squeezing the exuding juice into the potion. Immediately his potion changed, adopting the lilac shade as described in the instructions. A furtive look around the classroom confirmed what Snape suspected: that those who were religiously following the instructions were not progressing far. Remus' potion was spluttering furiously, Sirius' had turned bright green. Peter's had congealed into a gloopy mass before leaping out of the cauldron and onto the floor. In fact, only Lily's potion was as close to the text book description as Snape's, for she too had the same instinct for Potions. He smiled to himself as he heard her friend Mary, "I just don't understand how you do it, Lils..."

Snape turned his attention back to his copy of _Advanced Potions-Making_ and read the final line of instructions: _Stir counter-clockwise until your potion adopts the appearance of water._ Snape retrieved one of his quicksilver-tipped stirrers from his Potions Kit but waited, watching what happened when his classmates began to stir. James had stirred his too vigorously and had burnt the bottom of his cauldron. A thin, foxy-faced boy named Walter Fillygreen had stirred too slowly and was now spluttering as a cloud of blue smoke billowed from his potion. Snape watched carefully as the round-faced girl beside him stirred her mixture and it refused to change colour. A quick look in Lily's direction confirmed that her potion too had refused to change. Snape re-read the instructions, placed his stirrer into the mixture and begun to stir counter-clockwise. He counted the turns under his breath and watched carefully as the mixture began to shimmer then change. He noticed, however, that the more he stirred the more purple his mixture appeared. So he decided to change direction and, counting to the seventh stir, he suddenly changed direction and stirred it clockwise once. At once his potion changed to the palest pink and before he forget Snape dipped his quill in ink and made a note in his book.

"That's it everyone!" Slughorn announced, eliciting groans from some portions of the class. Snape placed the stirrer next to his cauldron and looked triumphantly down at his potion. His instincts had proven correct once again and, as far as he could see, only his Draught of the Living Dead was deserving of the prize.

Slughorn moved from student to student, sighing at most people's attempts, stifling laughter at others. As he reached the table behind Snape he heard Slughorn say, "Not a bad stab at it, Sirius. Not bad at all..." He moved to where Lily and Mary were sitting and with obvious disappointment gazed down into Lily's cauldron. "Well, I have to say, I expected a better effort from you, Lily. But, then again, it is a particularly difficult potion. Now Severus," Slughorn had appeared at Snape's side and he held his breath and watched Slughorn's face as he looked down into his cauldron. "Why, Severus! This is near perfect. As good a potion as I could have made myself! Twenty points to Slytherin. You are clearly most deserving of the prize."

"Can you b...believe that?" Snape heard Peter stammer behind him.

"That slimy, snivelling, slippery git!" James snarled. Snape remained unreadable, however, as Slughorn handed him the small, tear-shaped vial of golden liquid and, with a wink, said, "Make the most of it my boy. Oh to be sixteen again with twelve hours of luck!"

Snape thanked Slughorn quietly and as he dismissed the class Snape held back, staring down at the potion that he cradled in the palm of his hand. He couldn't believe it. Although he had not doubted his own abilities he had never dreamt he would win such a prize. Would it really work? he wondered. How would it feel? What repercussions would it have? How much would his day change when luck was on his side? What should he do? Slughorn's words still reverberated in Snape's mind _Oh to be sixteen again with twelve hours of luck_ and he allowed himself to smile as he pocketed the potion and left the classroom.

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Updates coming soon. I hope you enjoyed :)


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: Thank you to those of you, both faithful readers and new, who have read and reviewed. I can see from my stats that the hits for this story are quite high so if you read please let me know what you think. I have actually finished writing this story now and have come back to writing on "No Coward Soul is Mine" which I hope you will check out if you enjoy Lily/Snape centric fictions._

_Thank you to SomethingBorrowed who is always there, Megan for her hyper emails at 3am and Tristan for his patience._

_This story is for Loki's Symphony who needs something to cheer him up right now :)_

_Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. I simply own what I create. No need to sue._

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Two weeks passed before Snape took the potion. He had waited, feeling as he did about many things - that he would instinctively know when the time was right. He hadn't wanted to waste it. Although he was confident in his skills as a potions-maker, he wasn't sure whether this sort of opportunity would be his again. Every day he would wake in the Slytherin dormitory and gaze up into the green canopy above his bed, listening contemptuously to the sounds of Mulciber's snores, and he would wonder if today would be the day that he would feel it – the day that he would know. He would get dressed and leave the common room for breakfast in the Great Hall, watching the other students file sleepily past, argue after the last sausage or desperately try and finish the homework that they should have completed the night before. But each day would seem just as monotonous as the last. He would be treated with cool disregard by the majority of his classmates with the exception of Black and Potter, who relished each opportunity to tease and antagonise. He would attend his lessons and complete his work; he would eat lunch on his own and he would spend his free time either in the library or down in the dungeons helping Slughorn prepare for his lessons.

"Taken that Felix Felicis yet?" Slughorn asked him one wet afternoon. The heat wave had long since passed and now the rain had moved in, falling hard across the grounds and forcing everyone indoors. Snape had been concentrating hard on removing the dried on remains of frogs brains from empty jars with a tricky manoeuvre of his wand, and looked up as Slughorn had spoken to give a slight shake of the head. Slughorn tutted and, leaving his quill hovering above the parchments he had been marking, made his way over to where Snape had been sitting. "What have you been waiting for?"

Snape always resented Slughorns questions. As much as he begrudgingly accepted that Slughorn's concern for him was probably genuine, he couldn't help but hate it when Slughorn queried _why such a young and talented student insists on spending his free time down in dungeons_. How could he make the old man see that being talented at potions was not a pre-requisite for popularity at Hogwarts?"I was waiting for an opportunity to present itself," Snape finally replied, neatly stacking the clean jars to one side before beginning on another.

"My boy, that potion does not require an opportunity. It creates those opportunities for you." Slughorn leant back against the work bench and folded his arms across his chest. "It takes a decidedly average day and makes it spectacular..." Slughorns voice had adopted a reminiscent tone that prompted Snape to ask, "Have you ever taken it, Professor?"

"I was twenty-four..." Slughorn began dreamily. "And she was such a beautiful witch then..." Slughorn suddenly stopped, looking at Snape as if he had suddenly only realised he was in the room before blushing and returning to his desk.

"I've finished, Sir. May I go?"

"Yes, yes, of course," Slughorn said with a wave of his hand, falling back into his reverie as Snape closed the dungeon door behind him. He stalked along the corridors, pushing roughly past a group of first years who were huddled on the top of the Grand Staircase, before turning sharply into the boy's bathroom. A blonde-haired, nervous looking boy jumped as the door had swung open and he quickly dried his hands leaving Snape entirely alone.

Snape made his way over to the sink and turned on the faucet, sending water frothing down into the sink. He cupped his hands and wetted his face, rubbing his cheeks vigorously and running the remnants of water back through his hair. Reluctantly he raised his eyes to meet his reflection, his penetrative, black eyes swiftly appraising himself – his sallow skin, his large nose, his lank, black hair that constantly framed his face. His lips twisted into a grimace as he criticised himself, doing nothing much to help his appearance. He turned away and leant back against the basin, considering that there must have been a time when he hadn't looked into the mirror and picked apart his flaws, clearly discerning everything that made him so repellent to others. The door of the bathroom opened and as group of Ravenclaw boys entered Snape moved to a cubicle, locked the door and sat down.

As he listened to them chatter absent-mindedly about a pretty-dark haired girl in their Arithmancy class and about the impending Quidditch fixture, Snape reached inside the pocket of his robes and withdrew the tear-shaped vial. He wasn't sure whether it was just because it had spent so long close to his body but it was warm to the touch and cast a gold, iridescent glow about the cubicle. He was tired of the mundane, fed-up with being side-lined. Perhaps he deserved a change of luck? He looked at his watch. It was just past twelve which would give him to midnight to make the most of his luck and without hesitation he removed the stopper and gulped the liquid down in one.

The affect was not immediate and Snape sat and listened to the boys leave the bathroom. But then gradually a warm sensation swept through his body, from the tips of his ears right down to his toes. It was exhilarating, obliterating the sense of self-loathing he had experienced moments before when staring into the mirror, replacing it with a feeling he had not yet experienced – the feeling that when he left the bathroom everything would probably turn out okay. All at once Snape was certain that he should stop hiding in the bathroom and he leapt up from his seat and strode purposefully out into the hallway.

There was an hour until lunchtime and usually Snape would use this time to study alone in the library, often having obtained special permission from Slughorn to obtain some volume or other from the restricted section. However, something about today felt different. He could feel the Felix Felicis taking affect as he felt the irrepressible urge to make his way back to the Great Staircase and up to the fifth-floor. On his way the trick step didn't fool him and he narrowly leapt out of the way, causing a third-year Slytherin to fall through the gap instead. Without quite knowing why Snape soon found his way to the fifth floor corridor. Although it was too wet for any of the pupils to be outside the corridor was deserted. Grey light bathed the corridor. The rain beat hard against the windows. The familiar statue of Boris the Bewildered loomed at the end of the hallway, by which Snape could vaguely discern two figures silhouetted against the stone. They were tall, intimidating and as Snape drew closer he realised why they were huddled so closely together. For there was a third figure, her back pressed back against the statue, her face turned away from who Snape now recognised as Mucilber who was looming over her.

"What do you reckon?" Mucilber snarled and Snape, who was now only feet away, could see that it was Lily's friend Mary who was their victim. "How shall we teach her a lesson?"

"Just leave me alone!" Mary snapped, attempting to push past them but dropping her books in the process and sending the parchment cascading to the floor. Avery laughed and purposely placed his foot on top of Mary's copy of _Hogwarts: A History_, preventing her from retrieving it. "You don't scare me!"

"Oh but you should be, Mary," Mucilber snapped. "You and all the other mudblood-sympathisers should be very afraid...When the time comes you'll be the first traitors to burn..."

"What are you going to do?" Mary countered and Snape couldn't help but admire her resolve in the face of two much bigger, and more threatening, opponents. "You're nothing but playground bullies!"

"But we're so much more," Avery replied and Snape watched as he moved to roll up his sleeve. Yet Snape knew he could not let that happen, he'd have to intervene and he quickly withdrew his wand and, aiming it at the back of Avery's head he approached and said softly, "I don't think that's wise, do you?"

Avery started and turned around, his sleeve dropping. Mucilber grinned. "Oh, it's just you Severus. We were just having a bit of fun with Macdonald here, weren't we?" Mucilber reached out to pinch Mary's cheeks between his fingers, causing her to yelp and step back.

"Leave her alone, Mucilber. We're not complete animals."

Avery could not conceal his astonishment and Mucilber, having taken a moment to process what Snape had just said, took his foot from Mary's book and took a step towards Snape. Mary shuffled backwards, looking as if she wanted to disappear.

"What are you doing, Snape?" Avery's eyes travelled the length of Snape's wand before fixing firmly on his face. "You don't need to get yourself involved."

If it had been last week, yesterday or even an hour ago – before Snape had taken the Felix Felicis – he would have turned around then and walked off in the opposite direction. It was not that he was coward but he simply wouldn't have cared enough to intervene. The potion had changed that, however. He suddenly felt instilled with a desire to not only put things right, but with a deep-rooted belief that if he attempted to change things he would succeed. Luck was on his side. He did not lower his wand and he met Avery's gaze and articulated slowly, "If you think for one second that I am going to allow you to not only reveal our secret to the entire school but to victimise an innocent girl in the process, you are very much mistaken." As he spoke he felt a new-found confidence surge through him. He stood up straighter, felt taller, and was unconcerned as to how his fellow Slytherins would interrupt his actions. He found he simply didn't care. "Now I suggest you take your sidekick..." Snape's eyes flitted in Mucilber's direction, who had turned puce with rage, and he continued "...and disappear down to the dungeons."

For one horrible moment nothing happened, no-one moved; but Snape didn't doubt what would happen next. Finally, Avery turned to Mucilber and said, "Come on. Let's go..." and, after gapping at Snape like a goldfish, Mucilber obediently followed Avery away down the corridor.

After watching them go Snape turned to face Mary, pocketing his wand in the process. She was red-faced, whether from fear or anger Snape could not be sure, but she was looking at him as though she had never truly seen him before. Her evaluating eyes made Snape feel uncomfortable and after standing for a moment with only the sounds of the rain to break the silence, he bent down to retrieve the books that she had dropped.

"Here you are," he said, wanting simply to break the silence, handing the parchments back. Mary looked as though she was attempting to smile in thanks but that something was preventing her. It was only when Snape moved to walk away that he heard her sighing and he turned back around as she said, "Thank you." Snape did not respond but he did not walk away, something instinctual telling him to remain. He watched as Mary bit nervously at her bottom lip before continuing, "Why did you do that?"

Snape shrugged. "What did you expect me to do?"

This time it was Mary's turn to shrug. "Well...I..." she began to stammer awkwardly. "I'm not sure." She paused and with a toss of her curls said, "I know what you lot are, you know..." Snape said nothing and watched Mary's face carefully as she looked down at her feet and mumbled, almost as if she didn't want him to hear, "...but perhaps she was right about you."

Snape's heart tightened at these words and he struggled to remain outwardly impassive as Mary stepped away from the statue, turning to walk down the narrow corridor that led to the stairs to Gryffindor Tower. But as though he was possessed by some force greater than his resolve Snape stepped forward and called out, "Mary. Wait!" Mary halted and turned and before Snape was conscious of what he was doing he found himself speaking as though he could not control himself. "Please...I just want to say...What I mean is..." He struggled to take a deep breath, flustered suddenly by the way that the potion was clearly taking over, and how Mary's eyebrows were rapidly disappearing up into her head. "I just wanted to know, Mary. Does she hate me?"

Mary sighed and, folding her arms across her chest, she reluctantly replied, "No, she doesn't hate you Snape. Although it would be much easier and better for her if she did..." She went to move away but Snape persisted, following her.

"I want to see her...just once...I need to talk to her and at least try and make her see. To apologise...I know I've tried before but I want it to be different this time..." Something about Mary's expression told Snape she was listening and so he took a deep breath before finishing, "I just want to make sure..."

Behind him Snape could hear that lessons drawing to a close. Soon there would be the rush for lunch. Mary seemed to sense this too, knowing full well that any minute now there would be a stream of students trying to get up the narrow stairway to the Gryffindor corridor.

"Fine! Okay, I suppose I owe you for today. You get one chance Snape. Be in the Trophy Room at nine tonight. But don't blame me if she hexes you into oblivion!" And with that she turned and Snape watched her bobbing curls until she disappeared round the corner.

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Reviews encouraged and appreciated. More to come soon x


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: Thank you so much for all the encouraging reviews and feedback. A lot of new faces who I haven't seen reading my stuff before which is always lovely. I hope you continue to like where I go with this story. _

_Thank you to SomethingBorrowed for her unwavering support for my fiction, to Loki's Symphony for his girlish glee at all my stories, Tristan for his patience and Megan for her general lovely betaness!_

_Disclaimer: I don't own Harry or the wonderful things Rowling creates. I do, however, own this story. No need to sue._

**We return to Snape as he continues to feel the affects of Felix Felicis and apprehensively waits for the evening to come.**

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The rest of the day passed much like a dream: everything seemed to go right. He was called "exemplary" by McGonagall who cared scarcely believe that someone had managed full marks on the particularly difficult essay she had set _Discuss the pros and cons of using Tranfiguration as a form of evasion. _He had happened upon Filch attempting to dislodge a particular nasty mess from a rather disgruntled looking portrait and he found he suddenly knew the exact charm that would do the trick. As Snape watched an old man with wispy grey hair sidle back into the picture, he found Filch was thanking him by thrusting a small jar into his hand. Before he could query this Filch had moved away, Mrs Norris mewing obediently at his heels, and Snape looked down to see that the jar contained a small quantity of bile from a dragon's liver – a substance that was on out-and-out banned amongst the students at Hogwarts due to its highly flammable nature, but was invaluable as a potions ingredient. He fancied sausages for dinner and they appeared; when he needed to cross the courtyard he found there was a miraculous break in the rain yet reached cover he turned to watch the heavens open, soaking a group of first years that had been scurrying in his footsteps. But as fortunate as the Felix Felicis had made him Snape couldn't help but feel apprehensive about the evening, and as he made his way down to the Slytherin common room after dinner he replayed the events of that morning over and over in his head.

Fate was a funny thing, Snape considered. Without the potion's influence he would never have dreamt of intervening in the altercation between Rosier, Wilkes and Mary. He may have felt the desire to stop Rosier and Wilkes from action too rashly. He may have attempted to reason with them but he would have never had drawn his wand on his friends, never threatened them to leave the Macdonald girl alone. It would seem, however, that the Felix Felicis had plans of its own for without this intervention Snape would have never have been hurrying back to his dormitory, his heart leaping up into his throat every time he would look down at his watch and see that time was getting on, his mind whirring with doubts and suspicions. Snape's faith in potions never wavered. The exact nature of the science was something he had always found reassuring. Consequences were never left open to chance: Polyjuice Potion would alter your appearance without fail, Veritaserum made it impossible to lie. Felix Felicis was unlike any potion Snape had encountered before. Its unpredictability was un-nerving. It was difficult to know whether or not the concoction was dependent on the emotions of the drinker but given that Snape had often considered asking Mary questions about Lily in the past would seem to suggest that it was. Yet this made Snape even more uncomfortable. He worked hard to disguise the truth of his feelings; he struggled daily to conceal his real nature and yet the potion seemed to have taken seed deep inside him and was now acting on the impulse of unconscious desires Snape wasn't entirely sure he wanted to express.

He was relieved that the dormitory was empty – he had not been looking forward to seeing Rosier and Wilkes. He sat down on his bed, removed his shoes, socks and wrist watch and lay down. It was half seven, only an hour and a half before he would make his way up to the third floor to the trophy room and the thought made him nauseous. He tried to concentrate on something else, anything else; on the light that filtered in through the high windows that only just crested the surface of the Black Lake, on the sound of the rain outside. But nothing seemed to work and as he lay back in the cool darkness he found himself wishing to fall asleep, for the time to pass quickly so that before he knew it was time to leave.

Almost at once Snape fell into a deep sleep: the sort of sleep that is dark and silent and absolute. Occasionally Snape found himself dreaming, the shadows would subside and he could almost feel the sunlight on his face as he sat cross-legged on the floor, using a stick to draw shapes in the dirt.

"These are runes," Snape heard himself saying, but not he as he was now, but as he had been years ago.

"What are runes?" she asked him, leaning in closer, her red hair falling over one shoulder as she traced the symbols over with her fingers.

"It's like an ancient magical language," Snape explained, brushing his hands through the dirt to wipe away what he had written to start again. "We can use them to cast spells or to tell the future..."

"And what does that say?" she asked in an awe-struck whisper, gazing down at the strange symbols.

Snape felt himself blushing, unable to meet her eyes, as he mumbled, "It says "friend"."

On the fringe of his subconscious a rumble of thunder could be heard, causing Snape's eyes to flutter open and focus on the ribbons of shadow that flittered across the dormitory ceiling. Momentarily he lay there, confused, the waking world jarring horribly with the dream world he had just left. Then suddenly he remembered not only where he was but the events of the morning and, sitting up too quickly, he reached over to his watched to see that the time was quarter to nine.

At once Snape was on his feet, sending another rush of blood to his head that made him momentarily see stars. After pulling on his socks and shoes he checked his reflection in the mirror above the fireplace, pleasantly surprised by what he saw there. Whether it was the sleep or the Felix Felicis making him see himself differently Snape could not be sure, but as he examined himself he couldn't see the flaws he had so easily picked out in the bathroom that morning. His complexion didn't seem as sallow; the dark circles beneath his eyes had vanished and his hair didn't seem as lank and lifeless as he usually considered it. But he had no real time to give his appearance that much attention and he rushed up the stairs to the common room, and yet up more stairs to the dungeon corridors above.

As he rushed along the corridors and towards the Great Staircase Snape noticed the lack of prefects in his path. No doubt this was once again attributable to the Felix Felicis. Even as Snape hurried quietly up the stairs and turned shaply into the main corridor of the third floor, nearly rushed into the back of a Hufflepuff prefect named Simeon Smythe, the boy simply didn't seem to notice he was there and continued on his way. He slipped through the long gallery, watched only by the suits of armour that occasionally turned their heads in his direction, before finally reaching the door to the trophy room. Reaching out to open the door Snape hesitated, his hand fluttering above the door handle, and took a deep breath before opening it, stepping inside, and closing the door behind him.

Snape froze. She had her back towards him, sitting in one of the chairs before the empty, cavernous fireplace. The torches had not long been lit and they struggled to penetrate the gloom with their warm, orange glow that radiated brightly off the highly polished trophies and awards.

"This better be good Mary," Lily said impatiently, raising to her feet and stretching her arms above her head as she yawned. Snape backed up against the door. "Mrs Norris nearly caught me on my way here..." He watched as Lily turned, words escaping her, her face dropping in horror before rapidly being replaced with a look of sheer anger. "What do you want, Snape?" Her use of his last name stung him and as he tried to peel himself away from the door he found he couldn't respond. "What did you do, follow me here? You better go. I've got nothing to say to you and Mary will be here soon."

"Mary's not coming..."Snape began to explain, taking a step into the room. But before he could advance any further Lily had withdrawn her wand and was levelling it at his chest. "Don't come any closer," she threatened and Snape could see by the look in her eyes that to disobey would be a mistake. "What have you done to her?"

"Nothing. Lily, you have my word..."

Lily laughed sharply. "Well that makes all the difference in the world, doesn't it?" She regarded him fiercely for a moment and whether or not it was foolish to speak Snape found he couldn't stop himself as he said, "Lily. Put down your wand."

To Snape's utter astonishment, Lily complied and, allowing herself to perch on the glass-topped display table, she said, "Mary's really not coming, is she?" Snape slowly shook his head. "What happened?"

Snape began to explain what had happened that morning between Rosier, Wilkes and Mary, watching Lily's face carefully. He left out the part about taking the Felix Felicis and as he finished his explanation he waited for what Lily would do next. He watched as she swung her legs back and forth before asking, "Why did you do that? Why did you stop them?"

Snape shrugged. He had never been able to lie. Not to her. "I'm not sure. I just had to do something..."

"I don't believe you," Lily said eventually, jumping down from the table. "I don't believe you've changed. Whatever motives you had for helping Mary I'm sure they were entirely self-serving. And I'm pissed off at her for tricking me into coming her to see you." She walked over to where Snape was still standing in front of the door. "I don't want to see you, Snape. You need to accept that. There's nothing you can do or say to ever make me forgive you. The sooner you realise that the happier we'll both be."

She moved to open the trophy room door but a loud noise behind her made her stop and jump around. "What's that?"

"Peeves," Snape groaned as he watched a display cabinet that held precariously balanced ceremonial plates slide perilously towards the floor. "Come on we've got to go otherwise we'll get caught."

They left the trophy room and sped out into the gallery, Snape skidding to a halt as he saw two gold, feline eyes twinkling at him from the gloom. "Mrs Norris," he whispered to her, "The other way!" The tip-toed as fast as they could in the opposite direction but they were not quick enough as they heard the raspy voice of Filch behind them "Where have they gone, my lovely?"

Snape looked around desperately for a place to hide; they had no chance of getting away. To his astonishment he watched as one of the suits of armour reached out to grasp a fold in one of the large tapestries, lifting it to reveal a door that Snape had never seen before.

"Quick, over her," Snape instructed, grabbing hold of Lily's arm before she had time to protest and thrusting her in the direction of the door. After a forceful push the door budged open, allowing them enough room to squeeze inside before closing the door behind them.

As they stood, the sounds of their uneven breathing breaking the silence, they could both clearly hear the disappointed ramblings of Filch as he passed them by, his voice getting quieter as he drew further away. Finally, after a safe amount of time had passed Snape heard Lily move in the darkness toward the door and turn the handle. The door would not open. He heard her try a view more times before she withdrew her wand, pointed it at the lock and whispered _Alohomora_. Nothing happened. Snape leant back against the wall and smiled to himself in the darkness, listening as Lily threw the whole weight of her body against the door before she turned to him and said, "We're stuck!"

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Let me know what you think. The next chapter is the final one so I hope you'll stick with me. Any prompts for other fictions will be greatfully received! x_


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N: Well, this is it my dear readers. We come to the end of another fanfiction journey together. This has provided me with much pleasure so I hope you enjoy the final chapter. _

_Thanks to SomethingBorrowed who always seems to pick up on the little things, LokiSymphony who always tolerates my manic moments, Tristan for being wondering, and Megan for removing commas and providing me with constructive criticism which enables me to make things perfect :)_

_Disclaimer: I did not originally create Harry Potter. There is no need to sue._

**Lily and Snape confront the mistakes from the past and their feelings for one another. But where does that leave them?**

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The space in which Lily and Snape had found themselves trapped was more of a large closet than a room. They had very quickly discovered that the door through which they had entered was the only way out. A tiny, slit of a window provided the only outside light. It appeared that it had been sometime since anyone had entered; a thick layer of dust coated the few items of broken furniture that lay disregarded, making it cramped. Perhaps only the suits of armour and the ghosts knew of the chamber's existence, Snape mused, considering how long they could realistically be stuck for. Lily conjured some bluebell flames, confining them to an empty, smeary jar she found amongst the broken bric-a-brac, helping them to see. Yet she refused to speak to Snape and an hour past in painful silence.

Finally, sheer boredom and fatigue won over awkwardness and Snape watched as Lily finally moved, pressing her back to the wall and sliding down to the floor. Snape followed suit, finding being seated a welcome rest from standing so long in one position in the dark. Lily drew her knees up under her chin and buried her head into her folded arms, mumbling something under her breath. Snape felt urged to speak; to say something, anything, but found himself suddenly paralysed, focusing instead on her inarticulate utterances and the sound of the wind whistling as it licked against the window.

"Why can't you just accept it?" Lily asked quietly, talking down at the floor, and Snape watched her as she turned her head very slowly to look at him. "Why can't you let it go?"

Snape's mouth was dry and he swallowed hard before attempting to answer, "Because I know what I did was wrong. And I want you to know that I'm sorry..." He kept his eyes focused on her as he stressed, "I _am_ sorry, Lily."

The flickering blue fames bathed everything in an eerie, preternatural light and made her expressions very difficult to read. She sighed softly, rubbing her hands over her shins and picking at a hole she found in her knee-length grey socks she replied, "I _know_ you're sorry. But it's not enough."

"I never meant it..."

"Perhaps not..." Lily said, regarding him with her penetrating, green eyes. "But you said it, just the same."

Snape suddenly felt very cold and, wrapping his arms around himself, he said, "I will never forgive myself for what I said. And I know that it is too much to ask to expect forgiveness from you but..."

Snape was interrupted by the sound of Lily laughing and she shook her head and said, "Of course I forgive you."

"But then why...?"

"I know that you regret it. And forgiving you is the easy part..." Snape dared to hope but before he could become too optimistic Lily had continued to speak, "but what I can't ignore is why you said it. Why you chose to say something that you knew that would hurt me and humiliate me more than anything else."

"I have no excuses," was all Snape could say.

"I know," Lily rested her head back against the wall. "And that's what worries me." Snape suddenly found himself unwilling to listen; if the Felix Felicis was supposedly on his side why was this becoming so painful? But there was nothing he could do but avoid her eyes as she continued, "For a long time I'd chosen to not listen to what other people would say about you. I'd defend you, try and explain to them that you weren't always yourself around other people, that that wasn't the Sev that I knew." Snape winced. It hurt him to hear her use the name she had used for him when they were children. "But the more I'd try to convince them, the less convinced I would be. I didn't know who you were anymore...I don't know who you are."

"I haven't changed," Snape attempted to reassure her. "Not with you..."

"Just with everyone else, then?" Lily flared up, her eyes flashing dangerously and she rose to her feet very suddenly and tried, and failed, to open the door. "And I suppose that's okay?"

"I don't care what anyone else thinks!" Snape's frustration got the better of him as he too leapt to his feet. "I just care about you!"

Lily looked stunned and watched as Snape struggled to compose himself. "That's not the way to be." Lily's voice had noticeably softened but she still remained adamant as she stressed, "Things aren't the way they were...they can't be...not anymore..."

"But why not?" Snape pleaded, surprising both himself and Lily. Desperation was not an emotion he made a habit of expressing but it seemed that he had little choice.

"They just can't!" Lily snapped, frustrated at Snape's inability to see things from her point of view. "Why can't you understand that? Everything is shifting and I can't stand by your side and watch the way you're changing. You're a Death-Eater, Severus!" These words seemed to have been forced, with great reluctance, from her and Snape could feel himself shaking with some indescribable emotion as she continued to rage, "Do you not think I know what that means? What will happen in the end? You can't choose a side like that and not expect me to despise you! What other choice do I have?" As she had spoken Snape had noticed the doubt that had inflected her voice as she had expressed her loathing of him and he realised, for the first time, that this was not true.

"You don't hate me, Lily," Snape said with a confidence that caused Lily's blood to boil. "You wish you did, but you can't..."

"But I don't like you; I can't care for you..." Lily was speaking now without thinking, carrying on regardless of the connotations of her words.

"And Potter?" Snape spat venomously, more to wound her than anything else.

"Suppose I care for James, so what?" Lily advanced on him, unafraid, and even though he was beside himself in the back of his mind Snape could not help but admire her. "He may have his flaws but he's honest and loyal! He'd never dream of the things that you and Avery and Mulciber must hope for! Whatever you may think of him, he's kind and I trust him." Snape scoffed at this causing Lily to persist, "He loves me, Severus! You saw it more clearly than anyone and that's why you hate him, really, isn't it? Because he's brave enough to confess how he feels without feeling weak; something you would never allow yourself to do you...you coward!"

"No!" Snape cried, grabbing Lily's shoulders and gripping them hard. "Don't call me that!"

"But that's what you are!" Lily said hotly, struggling to manoeuvre herself away from Snape's grasp.

"I...you don't..." Lily's words had rendered him inarticulate and he dropped his hands when he suddenly realised the pain her was inflicting. "Please Lily...I..." The more he tried the more speechless he became. He wanted to hide his face from her. He didn't want her to see the impact her accusation had on him, how much her words had hurt him. But there was nowhere to hide, she was too close to him now, and he was powerless to stop the angry, hot tears welling up and blinding his eyes.

"Snape..." Lily said, her voice completely devoid of anger, as she moved closer towards him, trying to guide him towards the light.

"Go away!" Snape hissed, retreating away from her hands as they reached up towards his shoulders.

"Severus..." she said in a compassionate whisper that caused Snape to turn away from the wall and face her. In the inconstant, blue light Lily could clearly see the shameful tears that Snape had desperately tried to hide and she slowly reached up to wipe them away with her hands.

"Don't," Snape growled through gritted teeth, his eyes fluttering closed as he felt her hand press softly against her cheeks, her body swaying closer towards his. "Don't touch me." His words seemed useless, however, and he stood as though immobilised as he felt Lily very tentatively press herself against him, twisting her body so her head was resting against his chest. He opened his eyes and looked down. She was staring out into the bluish-blackness in silence, as though listening to the sound of his heart beat, and as though it was the most natural thing in the world Snape slowly moved his hands from by his sides to slowly stroke her hair.

Lily exhaled as though she had been holding her breath for quite some time, her eyes closing as she allowed her body to relax against his. Snape was terrified of moving, frightened that even the slightest alteration in his stance would break the spell of the moment. But he could not resist allowing his hands to roam the length of her back, soothing her, reassuring her, communicating in a way he could never have done with words.

"You hurt me so much, Sev," Lily's fragile voice broke the silence and Snape said nothing in response and simply continued to trail his fingertips in the small of her back. "I cried so much at first, when we weren't talking, I felt so alone..." She shifted and through the fabric of her shirt Snape could clearly feel the flexing of her muscles. He moved his hands to her hair and very softly smoothed it down over her shoulders, allowing himself the indulgence of taking a deep breath and smelling how sweet she smelt. "But I couldn't hate you," her breath was a hot whisper upon his robes and Snape tried desperately to suppress as shiver as she continued, "I could _never _hate you." A slight movement against him caused Snape to open his eyes and look down to see that Lily had moved and was now looking up at him, her bottom lip trembling slightly as she said, "Or don't you know that yet?"

For once in his life Snape did not think before acting and before he had considered what he was doing he lowered his head and pressed his lips against hers. She started and inched backwards, breaking the fleeting kiss, her green eyes desperately searching his face for an answer to a question she dare not ask. He had no words, no excuses to offer and the only explanation he found he could offer was to close his eyes and kiss her again.

This time Lily was not startled. She allowed him to kiss her once, just softly, to pull back and to regard her face carefully before kissing her again. This time she was not frozen, her lips cautiously met his, and when he slowly returned his hands to her back he found that she was kissing him back.

Snape's mind plunged into the abyss; there's was nothing else except him and Lily and the bluebell flames. He wrapped her in his arms and held her greedily to him, deepening the kiss, frightened that at any moment she would pull away. But instead she simply melted against him, kissing him with a passionate ferocity that spoke of desperation and of shame. Her hands were at his collar, his hands were in her hair, he could feel the curvaceous contours of her body against his and he trembled. He was lost, doomed forever now to relieve this moment, lost in Lily's arms. Every kiss sealed his fate. He knew that this marked not the beginning but the end but oh how he wanted it to last forever!

"Stop," Lily moaned, attempting to push herself backwards, her breathing unsteady as Snape continued to trail persuasive kisses along her neck.

"No, Lily, please..." Snape pleaded, unable to exert any self-control now the walls he had carefully constructed for himself had come smashing down. He grasped her tightly to him and, pressing his forehead against hers, her gazed deep into her eyes as he confessed desperately, "I love you Lily! I've always loved you. I love you." As he spoke Lily kissed him again fervently as he continued to whisper against her mouth, "I love you..."

"I know," Lily said. "I've always known. And I love you..." As she kissed him she exhaled hotly, "...I do...I can't help it...but it isn't enough, Severus." She drew away then and held his face tightly between her hands, preventing him from looking away as she repeated adamantly, "It isn't enough."

"Why can't it be?" Snape asked, his hands hungrily roaming her back. "What else is there?"

"We live in a world inhabited by more than just us...and the choices we've made...they've taken us away from each other. We're on different paths now. There's no going back. Things aren't that easy anymore..." With a great deal of effort Lily peeled herself away from him, increasing the distance between them.

"But Lily you don't understand..." Snape persisted, trying and failing to embrace her once more. "With your love I could become a man you'd be proud of, a man that you'd want me to be...without it..." Words failed him and Lily interrupted, "You should want that regardless of how I feel. You're a good man, Severus, but I've never understood why you've needed me to remind you of it. If I could choose whether to love you or not I would stop the way I feel for you but I can't. But I can't pick and chose the parts of you I want, Severus. I either accept all of you or not at all. And...I just can't do that anymore..." As she had spoken Lily had moved to try the handle of the door once more and Snape's heart sank as he heard the distinctive click of the lock turning. Yet she hesitated and turning back round to face him, she said, "I love the part of you that knew me as a child and shared things with me...that recognised who I was before I even knew myself and opened my eyes to a world I could have never imagined without you...I love the part of you that only I can see..." Lily sighed and Snape knew that he was losing her, that this was goodbye. "B...but I hate the way that bitterness and vengeance have twisted your heart and clouded your judgement. The reason I can never forgive you for what you said to me is not because of what you called me: it's because, for the first time, I realised how cruel you could be. I'd never be happy with you and you'd never allow yourself to be happy with me." She paused, fixing Snape with her fathomless, green eyes and articulated slowly, "I've seen the way you look at me and I hate the way I look through your eyes. I won't allow myself to love you. I cannot love a man like that."

"How can you do this?" Snape asked in disbelief, his head swimming with regret and anger and guilt. He could still taste her lips on his mouth. "How can you deny this?" Snape took a step forward but, thinking better of advancing, hesitated as he hissed bitterly, "You'll regret this, Lily!"

Lily turned as the door opened and Snape caught the powerful regret in her eyes before the bluebell flames were extinguished and she whispered, "Goodbye" and with that she closed the door behind her. He leant back against the wall, listening to the storm raging outside, glancing down at his watch in the gloom to see it was five minutes past midnight. Snape's luck had run out.

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_Reviews are what writers thrive on. Please let me know what you think. I shall be continuing on with my other Lily/Snape centric story "No Coward Soul is Mine" so please come over and read if you enjoyed this story. Also, for more of your Severus Snape needs, also see my story "Patient Potions Master". Thanks xxx_


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